


Raindrop City

by Omorka



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Micky's a little under the weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raindrop City

**Author's Note:**

> For Elfgirljen's prompt, "any, any, 'I wish it would stop raining'."

The moping wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been Micky who was doing it. 

If it had been Mike in one of his periodic glum moods, they would have tried to cheer him up. If it had been Peter staring dully out of the window, they would have teased him until he either snapped out of it or got mad enough to engage them. If it had been Davy mooning over some girl, at least they would have known no power in the world could change it.

But Micky? Bouncing-off-the-walls, hanging-off-the-stairs, motormouth Micky, sitting slumped at his drum stool, staring glumly out of the bay windows? None of the others had any idea how to deal with that.

The first day, they ignored it, figuring that, like all of Micky's moods, it would pass in ten minutes' time.

The second day, they tiptoed around it, waiting for his patience to run out and for him to start explaining, like he always did.

On the third day, they took a vote and decided on the direct approach. Davy, as usual, drew the short straw, so he strode over to the bandstand, began rummaging in the old trunk for his striped maracas, and asked, as casually as he could, "Hey, Micky, what's been eating you?"

Micky pulled his eyes away from the windows to stare grimly at Davy, then turned back. "I wish it would stop raining," he answered, so quietly Davy could barely hear him.

Well, that was puzzling. Davy sat down cross-legged between the hi-hat and Peter's bass and waited to see if Micky would add anything; he heard, rather than saw, Mike sidling up behind him with Peter in his shadow. When Micky seemed to go back to studying the droplets on the glass, Davy piped up again: "I can't remember rain ever bothering you like this before, Micky."

"It's summer," Micky answered.

After another pause, this time it was Mike who responded. "Mick, it rains in summer all the time."

Slowly, Micky turned to half-face his bandmates. "In Texas, maybe," he said, his voice rustier and reedier than usual. "Not here. Not in sunny Southern California, it doesn't."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Huh. What with the weather never changin' that much, I guess I didn't notice." He turned to Peter. "D'you notice, Pete?"

Peter's nose wrinkled. "Well," he started, "what I notice, really, is spring and fall. Or, I mean, not-spring and not-fall. They sort of don't happen here."

"Oh, spring and fall happen," Mike drawled. "Summer doesn't happen much, though. Half the time, the temperature barely breaks ninety degrees in July and August."

Micky cracked a half-smile. "Yeah," he allowed, "I guess you guys are used to the weather not behaving like you expect here. It's just," he interrupted himself to wave vaguely at the windows, "this is so bizarre for me. It's been raining for four days straight, and that means mudslides - if not here, then up the canyon." He swallowed. "I'm kinda worried we won't be able to get back into town."

"Mudslides?" Davy yelped. "You must be joking!"

Mike perched his hands on his hips. "Now, I'm just sick and tired of the ground not stayin' where it's supposed to 'round here," he announced. "Bad enough when it just wiggles back and forth a bit, now you're saying we might have to worry about it slidin' down the hill, too?"

Peter scowled, and added, "If people had just left all the brush on the hills where it belongs, then the ground would stay put."

Micky turned all the way around and looked at his bandmates. "Okay, yeah, I get it," he mumbled, "for you guys the weather here is always weird."

"Not at all," Davy chirped. When Micky looked at him for an explanation, he answered, "For the last four days, it's been perfectly normal."

Micky lowered his head, and for a moment, Davy thought he'd hurt his feelings. Then he heard the chuckling. It wasn't Micky's usual manic giggle, but after three days of the blues, it'd do just fine.

As they led Micky over to the kitchen for lunch, Peter murmured, "Remind me to tell you about the time we had a hurricane."


End file.
